Blue Horses
by Northlight
Summary: Sometimes, there's no winning no matter how you choose. Brin. Jace.


_ Title: Blue Horses (1/1)  
Summary: Sometimes, there's just no winning no matter how you choose.  
Rating: Uh... PG?  
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.  
Date: April 3-4, 2001.  
Note: No, the title doesn't have anything to with the fic - I just like the way it sounds. It comes from "Where the Blue Horses" by Raymond Souster: "as we sink into that strange land / where the blue horses toss / riderless and proud."_

* * *

She used to have a name. She can't remember what it might have been. She can't even remember having had one. The barcode on her neck names her 9918673. When they have to refer to her directly, the suited men and women bark out a short string of letters and number which encapsulates the entirety of her being. X5B! and she'll snap to attention, ramrod stiff, so still she's barely breathing. They will fill her head with everything she needs to know and she will snap a salute, yes, sir! 

She can't remember happiness or sadness, boredom or excitement. She is. That is enough. She will sleep five hours, sometimes more, sometimes less, and will never complain at the shifting of the hours allotted to her rest. She eats with the others, suited in black all together. They stare straight ahead, down at their plates. Their shoulders are held stiff, brushing together as they saw at the food laid out before them. It could be good or bad, but she doesn't think to question the quality of the food she consumed. She can no longer remember that there had once been good and bad and choice between the two. 

The passage of time finds her in a gym. They stand in rows, listen to barking orders before splitting into twos. She stands with another of her kind. He has no name to her. She can not remember that the string of sounds he had chosen for his own identification had once rolled off of her tongue with ease. Sharp whistle splits the air, bodies fall into position. Strike. Duck. Roll. Kick. Punch. Block. Fall. Pain. She lays on her back, nameless man atop her, his hand at her throat. He rises, doesn't help her up. She hadn't expected him to. Wouldn't have thought to expect aid or sympathy. Couldn't recall the conspiratorial winks they had shared once, secret friendship beneath their guards' notice. 

Hours roll by, and she finds herself with weapon in hand, shooting at the image of a man she doesn't remember, but knows she hates. Takes off the top of his head with a single shot and watches without emotion as he falls towards the ground with a rush of blood and brain. She doesn't think to feel pity or disgust or sorrow, can no longer recall that there had once been emotion to feel at death. Her trainer doesn't smile his approval, doesn't nod in pleasure as she passes. She wouldn't understand had he done so. 

She doesn't leave the compound. Her lack of mobility doesn't disturb her. She no longer has any notion of free movement, of choice between here and there and anywhere in between the two. She can no longer remember that she had once owned an apartment beyond these walls; that she had stood at the edge of an ocean at first one side of the continent and then the next; that she had known the feel of autumn, winter, spring, summer. She migrates from barracks to dining hall to training centers to the cold blue walls of the scientists' labs. They tie her down, straps across her chest, arms and legs. She never thinks to protest, to struggle against her restraints. Gloved hands rest against her face, moving her head into position. Cool metal against her forehead, a visor lowers over her eyes. They rework her mind, and she no longer leaves them feeling the loss of another sliver of herself. 

...~*~... 

She spent weeks on buses, a slow crawl through broken land and wasted people. She sat still and silent, her hand resting lightly against still flat belly. Thoughts twisted through her mind, strange and new and she couldn't believe where she was, who she had become. She used to be 9916785. She used to have a name she hadn't been issued, a secret defiance amongst her siblings, a state that had come to be accepted by those above them. She is no longer a forbidden name, even less so a number. She will smile now, hold out her hand, and offer a name made up for her by a man she didn't know. 

Mexico - one of the promised lands of her kind - and she's free. She works for an elderly woman, makes food, changes sheets, washes the house as it tumbles down around them. She wakes up early, cuts apples into thin slices, near paper-thin. Makes toast so light it barely looks as if it has been touched by heat. Defrosts canned orange juice, swirls flaking cylinder of flavour with cold water, listens to the click of the long spoon against the sides of the glass pitcher. Pours the juice halfway up, sets glass and apples and toast on a tray. Balances it easily, moves up the stairs towards her employer's bedroom, watching juice slosh against the walls of the glass. 

She does the laundry every Friday. Fresh sheets smelling of fabric softener in her arms, she moves towards the bedrooms. Nods at the small woman settled in a chair by the window before turning towards her task. Flicker of wrists, tuck and twist and pull, monotonous ease. She notes with a shimmer of surprise, all the time, that the mattress is full and soft and cradles sleeping bodies. She smooths sheets crisp and military-straight and tight across the mattress. Fluffs up pillows and lays them precisely side by side at the head of the bed. 

Saturday, and she goes shopping. Flickering lights overhead, she pushes a crooked cart before her. Objectives in mind, she ignores beckoning foods which fall outside the parameters of the list she has been given. She watches the other shoppers, fondles the fruits along with them, wondering what she's seeking. Marches through aisles with her rebellious cart, checks off a mental list as she finds milk, orange juice, peanut butter, tea bags. Pulls rumpled money from her back pocket, always a bit amused by the entire transaction. 

Belly growing round and sometimes, she stands in front of the age-dimmed mirror and stares at herself with a expanding sense of alarm. Lays her hands against her stomach, open palmed exploration of a body suddenly out of her control. Every day, she thinks more and more that she can't possibly do this. She can't be a mother. She can't play at human. She can't figure out freedom. Max -- and she remembers her sister with a surge of discontent -- spoke of this world, of freedom, as if it had made everything change. This precious freedom makes her head ache, sets her loose, drifting without meaning. Where is the _meaning_ in this life, she wonders with growing frequency. 

The first time she felt her baby kick, she jumped in surprise, hands flying towards her belly. Her baby, moving and alive, and she suddenly remembers the child she had been. She had forgotten that girl, her discontent, her fear and twisting hatred for the hurt she suffered. She remembers Lydecker: a good research opportunity, and you wouldn't have anything to say about that, would you, soldier? She falls back onto her bed, one hand atop her stomach, the other cradling her head. She moves backwards on the mattress, curls onto her side and sobs into her pillow. 

...~*~... 

When she had still been Brin, when choices had existed, she had made one. She had lay, white and frail and weak, her hand shaking against her sister's. She had taken in a wavering breath and made her choice real, words and meaning and traded freedom for life. I don't want to die she had said into Max's face. Max and Zack had looked at her, one with tearing eyes, the other with a carefully neutral expression. She had known they hadn't agreed with her. She had known they sorrowed for her life as it slipped away. She had known they couldn't offer her a suggestion that balanced life and liberty. She hadn't wanted to die. 

Brin had lay on a bench at the side of a road. She had curled onto her side, hugged her trembling limbs close against her. Tears had spilled forth at the sound of a car starting, tires against pavement and she had been alone with her traitorous body, her writhing thoughts. Brin had blinked away her tears, frantic at the thought of loosing her last sight of the world to the wetness at her eyes. She had shifted her head with infinite slowness, her eyes latching onto the sky. Four states and three names ago, she had owned a telescope and a book about the stars. She had renamed them. Zack. Zane. Max. Tinga. Krit. Syl. It had been silly and fanciful and Brin had laughed at herself, because she was free and she could be silly and fanciful if the mood so struck her. 

Clouds covered the sky. 

Zack! Max! Wait! Come back, come back, please. I'm scared. The sky rumbled with sound and her body had tensed in useless readiness. Brin had scrubbed at wet cheeks with a trembling hand, determined to wipe away her sorrow from public view. She would not stand for her emotions to be laid out for the uncaring eyes of Lydecker and the men trailing behind him. 

Brin. My name is Brin. I like stars and bad jokes, chocolate chip cookies and ice cream. The first boy I ever loved was named Alex. I bought a stuffed teddy bear and carried with me for years... Brin. I'm Brin. They can't take that away from me. 

They were touching her, picking her up with uncaring hands and settling her onto a stretcher. Brin shut her eyes. She didn't want to die. 

...~*~... 

Make a choice, Jace, Max had told her. I'm here, and I'll help you break free from Manticore if you just ask me. Jace had closed her eyes, shut out the sight of her sister. She had lay her hand against her closed eyes, pressed down until colour sparked against the darkness. Choose, Max seemed to cry out passionately with every breath she took. Max had offered a pretty speech, but what did freedom really mean, Jace wondered fitfully. What was life without boundaries and rules and a purpose that held them tall and fierce even in the face of agony? 

She could remember Victor, his arms wrapped around her, nose in her hair. If things were different, he had told her, I'd bring you home to meet my mom and dad. They'd love you, Jace, just as much as I do. We would get married one day, move out of the city and buy ourselves a house. We would have kids -- do you want kids, Jace? -- and a dog. If things were different, I'd bring you flowers and chocolates. I'd hold doors open for you, kiss you every time I saw you. I'd hold your hand and smile at you, I'd tell you I love you in front of everybody. If things were different.... 

Jace wasn't quite sure that she believed in the promise of life outside of Manticore. She wasn't quite sure whether she still believed in Manticore. She didn't know anything anymore and wondered if she ever had. Make a choice. For once in her life, cast of training and worry about what others would think and simply decide what _she_ needed. 

Max? she had whispered, the same low hiss of air that had passed between them within Manticore. Jace had lowered her hand and sought out her sister. Help me, please. 

Max was smiling and crying all at once, shoulders shuddering as she held out her arms to Jace. Jace, oh God, Jace, Max had said. You'll see. You'll be free and it's terrifying and exhilarating and for the first time in your life, you'll find out who you are. 

Won't I be me? Jace had wondered, the thought distant and fuzzy, drowned out beneath the wave of terror-confusion-excitement-worry that had exploded within her at her choice. 

...~*~... 

Flow of time brought to a near standstill, numbers crashing together, 9918673 and 9916785 collide and scattered to the ground in fragments. Except they hadn't stopped, hadn't run full into each other, hadn't so much as brushed arm against arm. They had stared at each other out of the corner of their eyes as they passed each other in one of Manticore's straight stretches of cool blue corridor. 

Oh! Brin had thought, her stomach twisting and throat burning. Jace, Jace, is that you? And it couldn't have been because she looked so... so hard, so empty. She could remember the two of them, years ago, and she had been biting back a cry. Jace had crept over towards her, patted at Brin's trembling fists. Her fingertip had brushed against the scrape on Brin's forehead before Jace had leaned forward and softly kissed the spot. Better? Better, thank you. 

Brin? Jace had wondered, and she hadn't been able to reconcile the woman being led through the halls with the girl she had known. She was so... old, so tired and terrified. Jace could remember Brin's hand around her wrist, firm and determined, pulling her forward when Jace was sure that she couldn't run another step. Come on, Jace, you've gotta do this. I'll help you, you just have to follow me. 

One step. Two steps. Three. Four. Five and they slid from each other's line of sight. 

What did they do to you, Jace? 

What happened to you, Brin? 

...~*~... 

It was dark at Alex's house when Brin arrived. She shouldn't have been there, it wasn't safe for either of them. She hadn't been able to stay away. She _loved_ him! She couldn't simply leave without seeing him one last time. Damn Zack! What did he know about love anyway? Brin was tired of running. She loved Alex and she wanted to be with him. Was that so very terrible? 

Alex's room was at the rear of the house, second floor up. Brin still blushed when she thought of how she had made that discovery. It was ridiculously easy to make her way to his window and crack it open. She slid into Alex's room and crept towards his bed. He was asleep, the pages of his opened math book crumpled where he had rolled over it in his sleep. His mouth was open, soft snores rolling forth. Brin brushed her fingers against Alex's freckled cheek. He snorted lightly and burrowed deeper into his pillow. Alex? Alex! 

Huh? Alex grunted, his eyes flickering open. Bonnie? 

Brin smiled and knelt down next to him. Yeah, it's me. 

It's late. Hey, how'd you get in here anyhow? 

She had shaken her head. That's not important. Look, Alex, something has come up... I have to leave for a while, okay? I'll be back as soon as possible. 

...'kay. 

Alex? C'mon, Alex, wake up. I love you. _I love you_, don't you get it? 

Zack was in the backyard when Brin landed at the edge of the vegetable garden Alex's mother was growing. Brin glared at him, not overly surprised to see him there. Zack had grabbed Brin's elbow, pulled her after him. You could have gotten caught! he hissed. Was he really worth the risk? 

Shut up! Brin growled, whirling on Zack with clenched fists. I love Alex. 

No, you don't. 

How dare you! How can you possibly claim to know what I feel? 

Because I know you, Brin. You're like all the rest of us. You aren't willing to risk yourself on a lost cause. I think you'd choose your life even over any of the rest of us. 

No! I'd never-- 

Strong survival instincts, Brin. You wouldn't be out here still if you didn't have them. 

...~*~... 

If things were different... Victor sighed into Jace's tightly bound hair. 

She rested her hand against his chest and pushed him back from her. Things are as they are, Victor. They aren't about to change. Not now. Not ever. I am what I am. We are where we are. 

Victor shook his dark head, hands reaching out towards her. I can't accept that, Jace! Not forever. We'll figure something out, we'll find a way to be together like we want to be. 

She had hissed softly, air escaping compressed lips. Like you want, Victor. This is my life. This place is all that I've ever known, all that gives my life meaning. I don't care about your white picket fences, 2.5 children and pet dog. 

He wouldn't believe her. He couldn't comprehend that she wasn't human in a manner he understood. Victor knew what she was, but he couldn't grasp that while his mother had been soothing his cries and fussing over bruises or scrapped knees, she had been learning to kill. He had rebelled by smoking or drinking, by dating a girl his parents didn't like, by listening to terrible music or breaking curfew. Obedience had been drilled into her being from the day she was born. Breaking from orders meant pain or a visit to the labs for a tweaking of her thoughts. 

How could this place satisfy you? Victor demanded of her. 

How could the world beyond Manticore satisfy you? Jace had replied. The outside world is dirty, diseased, corrupt. I am a part of order. I help in bettering this country, the _world_. I have a purpose. Tell me if anyone beyond this walls could claim the same with complete conviction. 

I can't believe that you're saying this. 

She had shaken her head. No. That's the problem. I love you as much as I'm able, but I can't do this anymore. 

He'd blinked in surprise. You're breaking up with me? 

You'll get over it, Jace had told him. She had patted at his face dismissively. I can't love you the way you need. You want to be huge in my life. I haven't the room for more than duty and my own survival. 

I love you. 

You shouldn't. 

...~*~... 

She wasn't there when they arrived. It didn't surprise any of them. In the two years that they had been searching for the rogue X5s, they had yet to meet one face to face. Black suited men broke from formation, spreading out through the room X5B had inhabited. One found his way to the dresser, pulled out plain cotton underwear from the top drawer. He slid them one by one into the bag he had settled on the floor next to his feet. A handful of small white bras. Piles of coloured socks. Ran his gloved hand across the bottom and back of the drawer before sliding it shut. Bent down and pulled open the second drawer. Found crisply folded shirts, dozens of colours. 

There were posters on the walls: star studded night sky, a kitten with a ball of yarn, a sunrise. One of the men pulled each off the walls, rolled them tightly and slid each into cylindrical containers. 

They took apart the life she had led object by object, filing away bits and pieces of her life for later analysis. Cheap jewelry and makeup, books and magazines, clothing, dishes and utensils, personal hygiene products and bedding, teddy bear with lopsided smile and shinning black eyes. 

...~*~... 

X5J sat amongst her brothers and sisters. Her small fists curled into tight fists atop her desk. Her eyes narrowed, jaw tightening as her teeth ground together. Images flashed before her on the screen at the front of the classroom. 

Zack. Traitor. Max. Coward. Brin. Plague. Zane. Rat. 

The screen faded to black. She remembered to breath. Her hands loosened, a slight pop as her short nails pulled free from the flesh of her palm into which they had sunk. Four angry red half-circles marred her flesh, cuts already disappearing as she watched. Hatred burned a path through her trembling body. They had betrayed their duty. They had betrayed Manticore. They had betrayed their brothers and sisters. Traitorcowardplaguerat_traitors_! 

...~*~... 

This is a beginning: 

Brin ran, arms held close to her body, small legs pumping furiously. She leapt through broken glass, air rushing around her as she fell towards the packed snow covering the ground. Her knees bent as she landed, arms swinging outwards to balance herself. Barely a moment to orientate herself before Brin was racing forward again. Snow flung behind her with each step as she zig zagged towards the perimeter of the Manticore base. Shots rang out behind her, and she tucked her arms closer against her body, lowered her head slightly. 

The fence was immense before her. Brin drove herself upwards, curling inwards to avoid the barbed wire atop the fence. Landed, fence behind her. Screams at her back, another shot and the scent of fresh blood spilled into crisp air. She didn't look back to see who had fallen to their pursuers. Useless curiosity and concern would slow her forward momentum, would put her in reach of the soldiers moving in fast behind her. 

She was nearly out of sight, out of reach, almost free, _free_. 

...~*~... 

This is a beginning: 

Jace stood, arms held tight around her body, trembling legs held in place. Her eyes fell past broken glass, glinting jagged edges in cold light. Cool air brushed about her, rushing against her frozen face through the shattered window. Tilted her face, sought out the figures darting with desperate speed across the snow. Small and tiny and Manticore loomed huge behind them. Soldiers ran in pursuit, their boots obliterating the smaller footsteps left in the snow. Shots rang out, loud and sharp and Jace didn't flinch back at the sound. 

Footsteps pounding behind her and Jace clasped her hand behind her back, straighted her shoulders and stared out at grey skies. Warning gun pointed at her back and Jace dipped her head, blinked back regret and fear and possibilities. 

The world beyond these walls had no place for one such as her. She was where she was meant to be. 

~end~ 


End file.
